


Laurels and Song

by MalignSensualist



Series: Whimsy & Fantasy; Asides from a Roleplay [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Tooth Rotting Fluff, but so many feels, probably doesn't make much sense out of context of the rp, wedding stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalignSensualist/pseuds/MalignSensualist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything, neither really thought something so fantastically normal would saunter so blithely into their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laurels and Song

**Author's Note:**

> Basically some fluffy saccharine garbo I wrote for my lovely Tifa after being inundated with marriage feels for her and Rufus.

 

 

He was nervous, ridiculous as it was, he was perhaps more nervous about the coming hour than anything in his life. Fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as he knotted and re-knotted the sleek charcoal tie – over and over, mercury gaze fixed upon a distant point in the liquid reflection of silver wreathed mirror. Ridiculous. He had no reason to feel this way, to tremble and watch every minute that passed on the grandfather clock face, counting down. His heart shouldn’t be racing and palms sweating. It was completely out of character.

 

But today, at 1:00 P.M. precisely, was the wedding of Rufus ShinRa and Tifa Lockheart.

 

The face of evil and the sweetheart of good. The irony would have even the greatest defeatists rolling in their graves. It was an affair spoken of across their world, whispered and gasped over – stirring offense, wonder or idiotic romantic notions. Rufus didn’t care for any of that, it was all to be expected; all a part of his life no matter how minute or grand the action. Thoughts were shrugged off as hands smoothed down the front of tuxedo; a pristine white with silver lining – a complete contrast to traditional black, but so much more [i]him[/i]. A  quarter turn and coat tails were meticulously adjusted, then the tie once more – more of a cravat really, with a pin holding the knot and covering the buttons of his shirt.

 

Touch ups here, touch ups there, re-aligning and adjusting – down to the white-gold set with sapphire cufflinks. The slacks were equally white, the belt a deep grey, the shoes a similar color. White and silver and charcoal – a stunning image to be made next to his surely white-clad bride.

 

Bride.

 

Rufus trembled, skin blanching  even as fair cheeks flushed traces of color and mercury sought out that clock face once again. He swallowed, downed half the glass of water sitting on the small vanity. In forty minutes and thirty-two seconds Tifa would walk down the aisle to meet him, and even in all his time knowing her he could not fathom the sort of beauty was sure to grace them. He turned from the mirror, long strides pacing to and fro from the room, paused at the curtained window to peak out at the guests assembling and decorations being touched up.

 

Of course they were hosting this outside, where else than amid the very embrace of the planet Tifa worked so hard to save? Lips pulled to a smile at the thought, mind swimming in disbelief and wonder, heart fluttering and racing and seeming to stop and drop to his stomach in turns. His hands were still shaking, and Rufus wanted to laugh, swallowed down the sound in fear such crude action would dispel this dream – for surely that is what it was. Though Tifa had been his for so long now, it still seemed unreal, a technicality really… and yet somehow meant so much more.

 

The door opened, almost silently, and Rufus turned, shoulders straightening and eyes narrowing upon Tseng – who displayed a muted amusement at the not-so-obvious distress.  “Are you ready?” The Wutian’s smooth tones broke through the heavy silence and Rufus rocked as though struck, gaze jerking to the clock – twenty minutes and fifteen seconds – and back to Tseng. His heart was racing, his throat too dry, but pulse thrummed excitement and legs were carrying Rufus through the door, lips perking in the barest traces of smiles, before brain fully registered.

 

Twenty minutes and she was his. Forever and always.

 

* * *

 

 

Guests lined every seat in the small faux courtyard, wreathed on all sides by swaying grass and wildflowers in bloom and swirling trees. A house stood behind them, small – not big, the very house Tifa grew up in – the house she now resided in, preparing with Elena and Shera and Yuffie and his mother. A house whose windows drew mercury eyes like moth to flame, heart hoping for a glimpse and delighting when none came, knowing it would be that much sweeter when at last he saw her. Still eyes sought, knowing what treasure lay within, for but a moment more, before Tseng’s beckoning voice turned him away, and Rufus made those first steps down the cobbled path created by walls of chairs.

 

AVALANCHE was there in whole, Barret posted outside of Tifa’s old home, Cid impatiently tapping a foot on the first row at the left, Reeve beside him seeming bemused and excited at once. Nanaki lay on the outskirts, flicking his tail about for a few giggling children from Nibelheim who’d come to watch their town hero marry. They cared as little for the theatrics of this affair as only a child could, naïve to the gravity of the world and just how hard won happiness truly was. Vincent hung to one end, idly watching and smiling that bittersweet smile of a man who is witnessing all the things he once dreamt he could have, but had long since given up. To the right, were all political invitations – save for the first two seats, reserved for his mother and Wazir, who tipped his plumed hat with a smiled and curled a finger about his mustache in contemplation. Those wizened old eyes flashed good humor and pride and Rufus felt his step lighten, mouth certainly stretching to an idiot grin – though really had hardly shifted at all from the subtle little expression of pleasure assumed when he stepped outside. Cloud nodded briskly as he trotted by, likely on his way to corral Denzel and Marlene as flower girl and ring bearer – and ensure the little boy hadn’t dirtied his tuxedo.

 

Yuffie sat beside her father to the right, though she was assuredly a guest of the bride, and near them both, hovering about like a beacon in the dark, was Reno and Sofia, Rude’s mother. A sharp cackle of a laugh drew argent eyes to Tifa’s… friend… Misha? Yes, the flamboyant man who even now was winking and gesturing lewdly to Rufus as the blonde passed by. The entire crew of orphans Rufus recalled from that fateful day in the Midgar ruins was there, all dressed in their best and accompanied by the guardians of the orphanage… truly the first [i]good[/i] thing Rufus supposed he’d ever done. They giggled and waved, and the shy brave little girl whose unabashed eyes he could still recall, her hesitance to take his hand, stood among them, smiling and waving – that feral look nearly gone, cheeks clean and high with color. Rufus waved back, felt the flutter of felicity in his chest, wondered yet again how this could be real, could be happening.

 

But it was, and he was in place, stood before a man clothed and licensed to oversee this wedding, before a trellis nearly overcome by crawling violets opening their faces up to the sun. Still more guests flittered in, friends of friends and long held acquaintances, political allies who would take offense if not invited, and for a few, family. At the side, the small string quartet set up raised their bows, and like a wand casting a spell, silence fell, and the music began – a whimsical tune, deepened by cello and lightened by viola, made ethereal by violin.

 

From around the corner of an old house came Marlene, skipping in her little coral dress, tossing petals in red and white and pink and yellow among the grass as she came forward. Her hair danced in the breeze beneath the crown of daisies atop her head, and eyes glistened with a mix of tears and unflappable happiness as she beamed for the crowd and, Rufus thought, for himself.

 

The edge of lips curled a little higher, the icy steel of silver eyes melting that much more.

 

Behind followed Cloud with Shera on his arm, also in a coral maids gown that left the brunette glowing. She smiled and offered a little wave to Cid when he held up their baby and the little boy made cooing, grabbing gestures for his mother. Cloud, for his part, smiled as well – small and awkward as ever in the face of crowds and events.

 

Behind followed Elena, ah, what better color could fit? Her dress was shorter than Shera’s, stopping at her knee and evoking an idea of the fun, fickle nature the woman had. At her arm marched Tseng, his own moue of seriousness cracked by the smile upturning lips. At last, the final couple stepped out, his mother on the arm of Rude, both seeming to glow and Rude, for once, without his signature sunglasses. The best men wore black, though Rufus had entertained the cruelty of forcing them into white. They walked in their line, across the tossed petals in an easy lope, coming closer and closer, and really it was not a long walk, but Rufus counted the unending seconds by the thump-thud of his own heart, and wrung fingers together where arms crossed together behind his back.

 

The couples parted ways, the bridesmaids to the left and the best men to the right – and the music dipped low, slow and stately in pronouncement. 

 

Barret was first visible, eclipsing Tifa even in profile where the two emerged from her home, and even at this distance Rufus could pick out the crystalline sheen of tears, weeping for his daughter, for a moment Rufus wondered if he ever thought he’d live to see. The big man was neat in a tailored tuxedo, a corsage pinned at his lapel and a tissue clutched in his free hand.

 

Then, they turned – and Rufus felt the breath freeze in his lungs as the guests, standing, collectively inhaled.

 

Tifa looked tiny on the arm of Barret, but seemed a thousand times bigger, like some goddess stepped to earth. A monk’s grace balanced every step, floating her across cobble and grass and flower petal, her coral painted lips smiling the sweetest of smiles – like the glimpse of a sun on a cloudy day. She glowed beneath the Gaussian veil, concealing hair and those wonderful eyes Rufus so wanted to see, it fell down shoulders and flicked in the wind, the edges glimmering with stone like teardrops. In her hands a bouquet of violets and peacock feathers and blue roses, a contrast to the pristine white of her gown. It flowed about her, fitted at the bodice and wrapped in charcoal gossamer, flowed down those long legs at a billow, in folds of white and silver, seeming weightless as it danced and rustled with every smooth step.

 

Closer now, so close, and Rufus was ignorant to the soft, liquid shimmer of mercury eyes, the ardent look of rapture that touched cheek in pink and softened the chiseled plains of a face only ever seen in the light of politician and warlord. Legs locked to keep from closing those last few steps and casting the veil from her face, just to look upon those eyes and see the truth that, indeed, today was real, now was real, and forever would be as well.

 

Then they were there, and the little man behind him spoke in low tones, and Barret, still crying, was offering TIfa’s hand with a look that was half sob, half smile, pride and fierce warning all wrapped into one. Long fingers curled around that deceptively delicate hand, rising knuckles to lips in a chaste kiss that drew a murmur from the assembly, and eyes that hadn’t once looked from his bride since she stepped into view, at last broke their lock.

 

As one the turned and stepped and the man was speaking again, little nothings for it was not his words that would bind them, or his blessing that would set the union in stone, but the words Rufus knew Tifa would speak – though he knew not what they were. His heart thudded in his throat, and fingers tightened about hers and she smiled again, beneath that veil and at last he could remove it. A flick of wrist and it was caught on the wind, torn away from sight and mind for those dazzling rubies to smile at him and Rufus felt his own face melt in matching affection – it was perhaps but a whimsy that Rufus fancied he could see Pandora smiling along with his bride behind those lovely eyes. A thumb caressed the curve of cheek, lingering in their own world despite the speech being made around them, despite the silence borne more of silent awe than respect for the situation.

 

For who among those gathered had seen such a sight,, when both had taken such pains to keep  their involvement secret, hidden from public eye.

 

Pink lips parted and Tifa began to speak, soft and dulcet and choked with the cocktail of emotions swimming in her eyes, clinging in shimmering tears to lashes – joy, disbelief, love. “I believe in you, Rufus, the person you will grow to be and the couple we will become.

 

With my whole heart, I take you as my husband, acknowledging and accepting your faults and strengths, as you do mine.

 

I promise to be faithful and supportive and to always make our family's love and happiness my priority. I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph. I will dream with you, celebrate with you and walk beside you through whatever our lives may bring. You are my person—my love and my life, today and always." She choked at the end, fingers pressing lips and nearly hiding the wobbling smile, and Rufus swiped away that falling tear, his own expression melted into tender sweetness, a smile to match Tifa’s radiance and love turning lips in such foreign emotion. And it was a wonder all assembled did not lose breath at the sight of moisture gathered at the edges of silver eyes.

 

Rufus’ own words were almost a whisper, but rang with an orator’s clarity, in no hurry and bellying all he felt for the woman standing but inches from him.

“I promise to encourage your compassion,  
Because that is what makes you unique and wonderful.  
I promise to nurture your dreams,  
Because through them your soul shines.  
I promise to help shoulder our challenges,  
For there is nothing we cannot face if we stand together.  
I promise to be your partner in all things,  
I promise you perfect love and perfect trust,  
For one lifetime with you could never be enough.  
My vow to you, my heart… my love."

 

And if Barret were crying harder, and Tifa’s smile nearly eclipsing her face even as rubies glistened unshed tears, it could hardly be blamed – for who among them thought they would see the day? Alive, happy… married?

 

And Rufus had no patience to wait on the murmurings of an old man as palms cupped that beautiful face and drew [i]his bride[/i] into a sweet, slow kiss that never broke the seam of lips and yet tripled heartrate. A kiss to seal a vow, and unite two souls – and Denzel grinned up at them, in humor and a bit of confusion when Tifa laughed a lighthearted sound that drew forth another of those tender smiles from Rufus, and plucked up a ring – simple enough in white gold, and planted it on his finger.

 

“Don’t forget this, Mister President.” She teased in the same soft, choked tones, grinning and laughing at once.

 

“Ah, what are trinkets, when we are so sworn to each other?” Rufus countered, eyes sparkling as he slipped the white-gold band upon her finger, before the engagement ring still glimmering so beautifully.

 

And again they turned, as one, eyes still locked before the applauding crowd, and at Reno’s vociferous catcall laughed their way down the aisle, jogging back to one of the houses, cheeks flushed and chests heaving, to bask in a moment’s privacy before the reception – though not before another kiss was shared, Tifa pulled into arms and snug against chest, kissed as though denied for years, when it had only been a day.


End file.
